


Just Annabeth

by juniperallura



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Pining, Pining Annabeth, Pre-Relationship, percabeth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 21:32:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14902409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juniperallura/pseuds/juniperallura
Summary: Having feelings can be frustrating- and annoying (especially when they're about your best friend)





	Just Annabeth

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at Percabeth! ft. confused Annabeth  
> Set vaguely post-Sea of Monsters/Titan's Curse

Annabeth rested her hands on the edge of the sink with a sigh. Her gaze flickered between the two objects that sat on the vanity; a hair tie and a bobby pin. Her hair fell over her shoulders in loose, combed-through curls, asking to either be swept up into a plain ponytail or pinned cutely to the side. Practicality would demand she put it up, seeing as she was meeting Percy to practice archery out in the baking sun, but something that day was making her hesitate.

She met her gaze in the mirror, grey eyes staring back at her critically. Since when did she even give this stuff a second thought? A line from one of her brief sojourns into Latin translation (it never quite stuck like ancient Greek did) came to mind:  _beauty is such a fleeting blossom, how can wisdom rely on its momentary delight?_  Seneca the Younger. Her mother would probably be nodding right about then. Annabeth’s hand hesitated over the hair tie.

She bit her lip.  _Seneca_. What did he know?

Okay, probably a lot of things. But she’d bet that he never had to watch an Aphrodite girl fix her lip gloss at the top of the climbing wall, somehow un-charred and without a single hair out of place after a grueling climb. Besides, he worked for Nero, he couldn’t have been  _that_ great anyway.

Annabeth groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “This is so  _stupid_ ,” she sighed from between her fingers. Why did she suddenly care how she looked in front of Percy Jackson? Di immortales, it was just  _Percy_ — like how she was “ _just Annabeth_ ” to him.

An odd pang, like anger but cold, resonated somewhere deep in her chest. Annabeth wasn’t dumb enough to pretend she didn’t know what it meant. Memories came back to her, like one of the times she’d met with Percy in New York over break. Mrs. Jackson had waved them off at the subway station, calling to them almost mischievously, “Have fun, you two!”

Percy had rolled his eyes, saying over his shoulder, “Stop, Mom, it’s just Annabeth.”

Then, again, earlier that summer. She and Percy were out canoeing in the lake, her attempt to cheer him up after a rough sword training session with Clarisse. If she was being honest with herself, she’d gotten a little distracted watching Percy row in front of her; her eyeline fell at the nape of his neck now, not the crown of his head like it used to. When had that even happened? 

But then a chorus of high-pitched cooing echoed from the shoreline, where a cluster of campers were pointing and making googly-eyes at the two of them. Grover was there too, sounding weirdly like Mrs. Jackson when he called, “Having fun?” with wriggling eyebrows.

Again, Percy scoffed, turning to her to roll his eyes. “Shut up, Grover!” he yelled toward the dock, “It’s just Annabeth-”

“-Annabeth?”

His voice came again, but it was actually Percy, hesitating in the doorway and looking at her with those sea green eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your- uh, girl stuff.” He fiddled with the string of the bow strapped across his chest. “Malcolm said you were here, I can- if you’re not ready-”

“No, it’s okay—” Suddenly, the indecision that plagued her vanished with an unmistakable twinge of irritation. Stupid insecurities. Stupid Percy Jackson. She was Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena.  _No one_  messed with her head like that. She grabbed the hair tie and swept her curls up into a ponytail. She shouldered past Percy, calling behind her, “Let’s get this over with. And try not to shoot me this time.”

Percy’s voice echoed back indignantly, “Hey, I never- I’m not  _that_ bad-”

“-Whatever,  _Seaweed Brain._ ”


End file.
